


you all over me

by decideophobia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 10:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decideophobia/pseuds/decideophobia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Scott is a <i>great</i> boyfriend,” Stiles says and jabs a finger at Derek. </p>
<p>Derek keeps his face blank. “You want Scott to be your boyfriend now?”</p>
<p>Stiles makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and flails his arms a little. “Of course <i>not</i>.”</p>
<p>Derek arches his eyebrow and asks, “You want me to wax poetic about you? I can do that.”</p>
<p>Stiles stares at him, an expression on his face that’s caught between incredulous and not-really furious. </p>
<p>“You know, eyes as golden as the sun, skin as pale as the moon, a mouth so obscene that—”</p>
<p>“Oh god,” Stiles groans and buries his face in his hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you all over me

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I don't even know.

_Have you had lunch already?_ Derek types into his phone and sends it to Stiles. He putters around the kitchen a little, looking into cabinets and the fridge. It’s the first time he’s in Scott’s and Stiles’ new apartment that they moved in for college. The flat is relatively small, with two bedrooms, the kitchen and the bathroom and a tiny hallway. Still, it’s seems bigger than it is. Both their rooms look spacey due to the three huge windows, and the kitchen is big enough to hold a table for two. 

_I’m thinking about pizza_ , Stiles has typed back. Derek frowns at his cell.

_How many pizzas have you had this week?_

There is a disturbingly large amount of pizza in the small freezer department in the fridge, and considerably less of anything else. 

_Lost count._

Derek snorts. He’s not even surprised although he has no idea how Stiles (and Scott probably too) survive on only frozen stuff like this. 

_No wonder you’re complaining about your pants being too tight._

_Are you calling me fat?_

_I’m merely stating facts._

_You’re disguising insults._

_Insults don’t work on you. You’re like Teflon, they drip off you._

_Are you seriously comparing me to a frying pan right now?_

_Teflon isn’t just a frying pan._

_You’re the worst. I don’t know why I keep you around._

_Do you want me to get a pizza for lunch? The one with salami, pepperoni and cheese in the edging?_

Stiles doesn’t reply right away, and Derek smirks to himself. Mentally, he counts down from ten, and his phone buzzes in his hand. He can always count on Stiles to try to have the final word. It’s a habit.

_If you ask nicely, Scott will let you sleep in his bed tonight._

_Scott at least doesn’t stick his cold feet between my legs._

_I hate you._

Derek can’t help the snicker that escapes him, and shoves his phone back into his pocket. He turns and opens the fridge again, skeptically eyeing the contents. Admittedly, he’s surprised there’s nothing in there that’s rotting as he wouldn’t put it past Stiles and Scott to just…let the stuff lie around and develop a life of its own. He finds a pack of bacon and some unopened whipping cream, and in one of the cabinets, luckily, pasta; and he gets the strong suspicion that Allison’s the sole reason there’s any food besides pizza in the apartment. Derek figures he might invite the Sheriff for a pizza or curly fries sometime soon, considering Stiles indulges shamelessly in fast food while watching his father’s eating habits like a hawk. 

Derek scrambles together some other stuff and makes pasta casserole. He prods around Stiles’ room some more, and ends up studying the photographs Stiles put up on his wardrobe door intently. There’s one of Scott with two cheeseburgers in his mouth at once; Jackson sleeping and a grimace drawn on his face with Sharpie; Stiles between Lydia and Allison who are kissing him on the cheeks; Scott, Stiles and Isaac making stupid faces at the camera; a picture of Boyd and Derek with strongly judgmental expressions on their faces; Erica holding Stiles bride-like at their prom. And then there’s one of Stiles and him, and Stiles’ face is bright with amusement and his mouth is open for laughter, eyes closed and bending his whole body while Derek’s eyes are focused on him, a pleased little smile on his lips, arm hooked around Stiles’ waist. He remembers the day and that he had cracked a joke about something and Stiles had in fact toppled over with laughter shortly after. Derek smiles to himself at the memory. 

A key in the lock makes him perk up, and then Stiles comes in, already complaining.

“You’re the worst boyfriend in the history of boyfriends, just so you know.”

“In the history of your boyfriends?” Derek teases, walking into the tiny hallway where Stiles is kicking off his shoes. Stiles glowers at him, and Derek tries not to smirk too widely. Derek likes the thought of being the first in a row of Stiles’ firsts, although he tries not to show it too much or brag about it. 

“Scott is a _great_ boyfriend,” Stiles says and jabs a finger at Derek. 

Derek keeps his face blank. “You want Scott to be your boyfriend now?”

Stiles makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and flails his arms a little. “Of course _not_.”

Derek arches his eyebrow and asks, “You want me to wax poetic about you? I can do that.”

Stiles stares at him, an expression on his face that’s caught between incredulous and not-really furious. 

“You know, eyes as golden as the sun, skin as pale as the moon, a mouth so obscene that—”

“Oh god,” Stiles groans and buries his face in his hands. Derek can see his shoulders shaking, and then there’s a choked sound coming from Stiles, like he’s trying to keep his laughter in. Gently, Derek pries Stiles’ hands away from his face and takes in his flushed face, the tiny crinkles around his eyes from laughing, and Derek finds himself drawn in, kissing him open-mouthed. Stiles sighs rapturously. 

“What smells so nice?” Stiles asks when they pull apart and tips his head back to sniff the air. Derek dives in to press a kiss on his throat, over the pulse point, and feels Stiles shiver against him. 

“Food,” Derek answers then, taking both of Stiles’ hands and walks backwards, leading Stiles into the kitchen with him. Stiles’ eyes light up at the word—one way to brighten Stiles’ mood is food, no matter what. (“What do you mean you only eat when you’re hungry?”)

“You made lunch,” Stiles states as Derek sits him down on one of the chairs by the table before getting out the casserole dish. Stiles moans in delight.

They eat in silence mostly, and Stiles has this look on his face, deeply satisfied, making pleased little noises every once in a while, and inhales the food. There’s really no other way to put it. 

“You should cook more often for me,” Stiles says when he’s finished, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his stomach. 

Derek lifts his eyebrows. “Because I’m such a bad boyfriend.”

Stiles nods, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Precisely,” he agrees and adds, “To make up for it,” and leans over the table to kiss Derek softly. 

They clean the dishes together. It’s been a long time since Derek has felt this sense of domesticity, a sense of real home—even if he doesn’t live here. But anything were Stiles’ presence lingers makes him feel like it, feel good. 

“I fixed your computer, by the way,” Derek tells him as they walk into Stiles’ room. When Stiles had left for class this morning Derek had nothing better to day, and Stiles had said that his laptop was broken and needed fixing. 

Stiles stares at him, surprised. “You…know stuff about computers?”

Derek shrugs. He had tinkered his first computer himself back in the day and he’d enjoyed it, it had kept his hands and mind busy but he’s stopped doing it after the fire. “I used to work on and fix the computers in our house.”

Stiles sits down at his desk and flips open his laptop. He smiles pleased when he convinces himself that the laptop works again, clicks through several folders—and freezes while Derek stretches out on his bed. 

“You found the porn, didn’t you?” Stiles asks as he turns around to face Derek and squints suspiciously. 

Derek doesn’t hide his smirk. “Yep.”

“Did you watch some of it?”

“Possibly.”

Stiles gapes at him, licking his lips, and Derek stretches some more, sinking deeper into the mattress. Undeniably, Stiles’ bed is ridiculously comfortable. 

“Why do you have it, anyway?” Derek asks eventually when Stiles keeps silently staring at him.

“Research,” Stiles replies nonchalantly and closes the laptop.

Arching an eyebrow, Derek echoes, “Research.”

Stiles gets up and walks slowly over to the bed. “For stuff I want to try out.”

“Like what?”

Stiles smiles in the dirtiest way possible as he sinks down on the bed and crawls to Derek, straddling his thighs. He runs his hands up Derek’s torso and to his neck, his fingers stroke gently through the hairs on his nape. 

“I’ll let you know,” Stiles promises and leans in. Their lips brush, chaste and tender, and Derek likes these kisses; the lazy and sweet ones, unhurried and dry. Derek slides his hands up and down Stiles’ sides, occasionally slipping under his shirt to touch the warm skin beneath, the contact making Stiles sigh dreamily against Derek’s mouth. 

“So,” Stiles says, leaning back a little to look at Derek. “What have you been up to today, except for making lunch and fixing my computer with your secret super powers?”

“Been a bad boyfriend,” Derek deadpans. He buries his fingers in the collar of Stiles’ plaid and hauls him closer again to keep kissing him. Stiles huffs out a breath against Derek’s lips. “Other than that I tried to woo you into forgiveness with my cooking and my mad computer-fixing-skills. Tried to compose a minnesong but you wouldn’t let me.”

Stiles rolls his eyes exaggeratedly but gasps softly when Derek latches onto his neck, kissing and nipping on Stiles’ warm skin. 

“You are ridiculous,” Stiles tells him, again, and tips his head back a little bit more, baring his throat. He makes a soft noise when Derek licks over his neck and starts kissing along his jaw. “Really, your constipated face and that stupid sense of humour you have totally betray your awesomeness.”

Derek bites gingerly at the hinge of Stiles’ jaw. “My constipated face and my stupid sense of humour are what make me awesome to you.”

Stiles hums in agreement, angling his face so he can look at Derek again. He cups Derek’s cheek with one hand, running his thumb along the skin under his eye. Derek covers Stiles’ hand with his own and turns his head, burying his mouth in Stiles’ palm, kissing it tenderly. 

“You in general are awesome to me,” Stiles says, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. “All of you.”

Stiles smiles at him affectionately. It makes Derek’s heart flutter in his chest, makes his pulse jump and his throat dry, in a heart-wrenchingly pleasant way. Stiles kisses the tip of his nose. 

“So,” Derek clears his throat a little. “How’s your day been?”

“Boring,” Stiles answers, nosing along Derek’s hairline with his neck brushing against Derek’s lips. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you. About how you’re here, in my apartment. I just wanted to finally come back to you.”

Derek can’t help how his breath hitches in his throat. 

“Got some stuff for my lectures, though,” he continues as he presses feathery kisses at Derek’s temple. “There’s this one professor—she’s awesome. She’s so enthusiastic about her stuff, and it’s really catching.”

“She’s just like you then,” Derek points out and tilts his head back to catch Stiles’ lips with his own. Stiles buries his hands in his hair then, holding on, gripping and releasing again. 

“If my enthusiasm was as catching as hers, people would be all over you,” Stiles counters. Derek grins and tries to kiss him once more but Stiles angles his head away, looking intently at him. “You know what; people would be all over you if I hadn’t locked that down already. So yeah, catching.”

Derek laughs against Stiles’ lips as he comes closer again, reciprocating Derek’s kiss. He breaks away, says, “Scott doesn’t seem to catch on, though.”

Derek makes a face at him. “I wouldn’t want Scott to be all over me.”

“No?” Stiles raises his eyebrows in mock surprise. 

“I’m pretty content with only you being all over me,” Derek admits, and Stiles beams at him, brightly and unabashedly. It’s like staring into the sun, really, and it’s a thought Derek wouldn’t even confess to Stiles. 

“Don’t worry,” Stiles says then, kissing Derek again, licking over his bottom lip. “Nothing will change about that anytime soon.”

Derek can’t complain about that, really.


End file.
